pro tempore

Graham crackers and a cold glass of milk are my balm of choice tonight.  I feel PMSy even though I am not.  I let my feelings get hurt at the drop of a hat today; a co-worker commented that I was “actually wearing make-up” (I wear it every day), my mother gave me some news about unexpected house guests and then she seemed to get mad when the news stressed me out (I think she was at least not nearly as mad as I estimated her to be), and one of the house guests went to bed without saying goodnight.

Now, to be fair, it’s totally possible she forgot.  And here’s the zinger: I did not forget.  (And I don’t even care that much about the tradition of yelling good night to each individual person we have here.)  I remembered, and I sat listening to her holler at every other person in every corner of the house, but not me.  And I could easily have hollered at her, but I kept my silence, holding my breath, hoping to hear my name.

What is wrong with me?

Now I’ve had some graham cracker and milk, and my eyes are very heavy, and life seems a bit better.  I’m going to find a kitty to curl up with and get at least a dozen forty winks.

I was going to do Confession Tuesday a day late today (synopsis: I am a procrastinator, a braggart, and a hypocrite, not necessarily in that order), but I wound up napping and writing a wedding poem with Dana instead.  Such is life.

Also, heads up on the new RWP prompt by Carolee for next week… get set to write some hot ‘n’ nasty stuff!  (Wait, I’m not saying it right.  Read her post instead.)

Collaborative poetry stimulates the pleasure region of my brain.

I’m so behind on everything from my weekend in LA.  But all I want to spend my time on is poetry & pictures.

I care less and less these days about what people think of me.  In a good way, I think.  But I think I’m more afraid of dying.  Maybe in a good way as well.  Maybe not.  Sometimes I’m afraid of how afraid I am of death.

I can’t seem to give up some (most) of my bad habits.

Despite a mixed response (positive here, but both some positive and negative in my inbox/in person) to last week’s confession, I’m glad I posted.  I’ve had two emails from people who went through similar things and both expressed that they wished people talked about this stuff more.  Especially Christians.  Especially Christian women in conservative communities.  And I’ve had some more epiphanies about the whole thing that I hope I get to share soon.

I have some low-grade anxiety buzzing around my head, mostly from being behind on things and not being happy with my job.

The mind is unbelievably strong.

I love books.  I love lists.  I love lists about books.  So naturally, I was excited to participate in this meme I found at slynne’s a week or so ago.  And then I feel weird if anyone is impressed (and I’d feel defensive if anyone were condescending about my list, either).  Because, truly, of the few dozen books I bolded, only six were read outside of class.  Mostly I have the educational system to thank for my, um, education. :)

This is only the beginning of how I obsess and worry about books, though.  I worry about the industry.  It is on the brink of death, you know.  I worry about what doesn’t get printed.  I worry about what does. I worry about what I have not yet read, what I have, and what I will.  I want to read good books, but also books I love.  I want to read some that are challenging (but rewarding) and a lot that are simple, good stories.  I don’t want to waste my time on bad books.  There are countless tomes in the world, and, at max, 80-ish years left in my life.  Precious little reading time.

How should I choose what to read?  The question haunts me.  With so little time, I hate to waste much of it researching and deciding ahead of time.  Plus, such research often predisposes me to erroneous prejudgment.  So then I figure I’ll just go with the flow—read what crosses my path, love some, hate some.  But what if I miss something great because I have my head stuck in the sand?

And then there is the agony of reader’s block, which I get every few months.  It is usually most easily resolved with a decent young adult adventure novel.

Oh, my head.

And now, on life, though it doesn’t really fit with the rest of the post: I loved the out-of-town trip—so good to see the college peeps.  It really made me want to move there.  But I did not get the job.  It’s OK, although I have been pretty bummed about it.  It isn’t a job I would love, and although I think I really would have liked working with my direct supervisor, when I interviewed with the head boss, I really felt uneasy.  Not because he was skeezy (is that a word?).  He’s someone I knew the last semester of college, and I have a lot of respect for him, but I felt really weird during the interview.

But I’ve found a new job listing site that seems superior to anything else I’ve come across, so that’s exciting.  Because I need a new job like a fish needs water…  I’m desperate, not just because I don’t make much money and the lack of a cool working environment makes me feel ill when I get home, but because I’m stuck in a major moral quandary.

On that note, I’d best get back to tweaking the resume and emailing it out into the unknown.

I desperately need a change in life. I’ve only been at the current job for about seven months, but right now there’s stuff going on and I just need to LEAVE. “Stuff going on” means, 1) I’ve totally fallen for someone I shouldn’t have and I simply can’t stand it anymore and no I’m never expanding upon this statement ever, and 2) apparently our A/C can’t keep up with Texas summer heat, and I certainly can’t stand that. By end of day, it’s often nearly 90 degrees inside our store.

Oh, and also, I have approximately 2.2 friends here in Suburbia-land, 2 of whom are married and rarely available for Fun Time with Single Friend. I haven’t felt up to much fun myself, either. But I’m hoping to get over that.

So, solution: out-of-town job interview on Tuesday. Not at all sure it will work out, but bonus: holiday weekend in one of my favorite cities, with some of my favorite people.

• I’m hungry but don’t know what to eat. Everything sounds nauseating.
• I found out about something really exciting yesterday, but I’m afraid that if I talk about it, it won’t come true. So my lips are sealed. I’m always afraid of this, because it almost always seems like if I say what I’m hoping for, I lose it.  I’ve probably already said too much.
• Things are looking up, but only four days until PMS starts… we’ll see how that goes!
• I really, really want my friends to join twitter. I feel lonely there.
• I don’t have much to confess today.

I am an animal. I am a legalist, a penny-pincher, bland, vanilla, pudgy-around-the-middle. I am a glutton, a slob, a sloth, a debtor and a nympho. I am indiscriminate. I am divorced from truth. I am the pinched nerve in your lower back. I have let you down.

• i am feeling small today. why aren’t there lower-case numbers?
• i’ve been touched by a bit of anxiety lately, and i hate it, and it makes me want to make all my life decisions based on what will cause the least anxiety. and then i think, “that’s sad. i don’t want to do that.”
• i have an idea for an ode i want to write (this week’s prompt at read write poem) but it’s taking a while to coax it out onto… paper? screen?
• my life feels very uninteresting right now. i have nothing saucy to confess. isn’t that sad?